


Let Me Drown in Your Melody

by BeautifulChaos21



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulChaos21/pseuds/BeautifulChaos21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Wonshik had been confused about the other things that came out of this particular box to be ‘too normal’ to be anything his father would choose for the shop then this last piece was definitely the icing on the cake because it was by far the most beautifully crafted antique Wonshik had ever laid his eyes on.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p> </p>
<p>                                                                                      -Where Wonshik finds a rather peculiar music box-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Starts with a turn of the gear and the music begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is officially my first post here. Not another fic I'm transferring XD  
> So I'm kinda excited :s ....... yeah i know that's weird.

Be reasonable, it’s four in the afternoon, smoldering hot outside which makes the cool contrast of inside all the more welcoming.  
So it makes perfect sense why Wonshik is slumped face first onto the counter, a trickle of drool forming an unattractive puddle near his jutted out lips and he’s snoring like a grizzle bear during hibernation. He’s tired, that’s nothing new but running four blocks from school in order to be at his father’s antique shop before the man so much as shifted in his pocket for the keys to the door can bring a person’s energy from sixty to zero rather quickly.  
You try doing it every day.  
Sadly Wonshik has no energy though; he isn’t what you would call a lively and upbeat individual. He’s not the energetic type that’s loves running around the world and back again with a smile on their face whilst the wind sweeps dramatically through their hair and background music you could really find yourself jamming to plays.  
No he’s the somber, calm type. A little too calm in nature’s perspective but hey no one’s perfect. He’s that type though, the type that if it were up to him would turn a 20 minute walk into 3 hours if he felt like it. He takes things slow, likes it that way, in everything he does. ‘Enjoying life’ was the motto.  
The excuse he always chose to retort to his father the times he would scold him about moving to a turtle like pace when stacking and moving in new arrivals for the store.  
Yea, he’s just that type.  
So even when a firm, rugged hand comes down on his back with the strength of a falling tree it takes Wonshik three seconds longer than a normal person would to react to the blinding pain that thunders through his body in violent waves.  
He hollers and it eerily sounds like a mixture of a yawn and a scream but nonetheless his eyes are bloodshot and saucer wide. He’s glancing about the place like a drunken panicking hobo before his hands reach around to his lower back trying to ease the searing pain pulsating.  
“This…. Is not how you unpack boxes boy”.  
The stern, deep growl from behind makes Wonshik’s body tense rather than relaxing and after a few steady breaths. He turns slowly, wiping the wet stain along his chin as he does so and gives the man glowering above him the most apologetic puppy eyes he can muster.  
“Don’t try that with me” His father scoffs.  
Wonshik slowly gets to his feet, his back still aches a bit and he wants to question why his father always uses this cruel means to wake him up. It’s never a simple shake of the limbs or at least a shout of his name. No, his father never held that type of patience.  
“Those boxes should have been unpacked an hour ago, why do we have to go through this, what if a customer had come while I was out, couldn't you just have done it then fallen asleep atleast. I’m starting to get seriously concerned over your sleeping patterns”  
His father rants, shoving an unopened box into his midsection that has him clambering to keep the thing from falling. It looked so light when his father had been holding it, what the hell?  
“Could you be a bit more hmm…. I don’t know concerned about the paralysis you might end up putting me in one day, seriously it’s like you’re made of stone” Wonshik retorts, groaning as he turns on his heels and heaves the box over to the middle of the room. A clear space away from any of the other intricate ornaments, old chests or vintage prehistoric useless junk he thought his father would go batshit over if he accidentally knocked any of them over during this.  
With a long sigh he pulls out a small box knife from his back pocket and proceeds to slice along the line of tape that keeps the box sealed, popping the ends then begins rummaging through bubble wrap until he feels and sees another ancient object that looks just about right where it should be.  
In his father’s shop with the rest of things that should have maybe burnt in a fire somewhere before he was born.  
He honestly for the life of him could never understand what his father saw in these weird, time battered things. From paintings to jewelry, hats of all sizes and colors to books as old as his four fathers and thicker than all his physics books combined.  
This…. Thing however seemed to only solidify his belief that his father and every single person that came in here had something seriously wrong with them. He set the crinkled, twisted pile of what he could only describe as dry mold down onto the counter before taking a step then two back to stare hard at it.  
He tilts his head to one side then the other. He contemplates giving it a look upside down. Maybe it was upside down or sideways?  
“What is this?” he finally asks when he can’t really get a grasp on if he’s looking at a face or an ass, a sunflower maybe?  
The look his father sends him isn’t really surprising. It’s just simply more on the lines of ‘why do I even bother’.  
“I saw it on my trip to Hawaii, it’s very rare, and not many of the villagers do this type of sculpting. It’s carved out of cooled lava then finger painted tentatively-“  
“You lost me at very rare….” Wonshik cut in, in a rather bored tone and folds his arms. His father sighs and if Wonshik didn’t know any better he would have thought the man even chuckled a bit.  
“Just go unpack the rest of the boxes and don’t make a mess, clean up everything afterwards and just set everything out on the counters; I’ll decide where to place them”  
“Why can’t I just put them where I think they should go?”.  
“Because last time-“  
“Oh my god. Are you never going to get over that one time?” Wonshik flails around in frustration. 

 

It’s been roughly an hour and a half since he’s been left to himself to only the sound of his low humming and the ripping of cardboard and tape as he opens another box. Peeling through bubble wrap and placing objects stranger than the last on top the counters in a neat line one after the other.  
He cringes at a few, quirks an eyebrow at the less than ‘exotic’ looking ones and almost costs his life when he drops one the moment he lifts it from the confines of the box and gets enough seconds in to stare at it before it scares him shitless.  
He’s thanking every and all things that whatever this dastardly thing is made of endures the sudden and short fall to the ground because when Wonshik musters up the courage the pick it back up it doesn’t have any evidence of the cruelty it had been dealt.  
Wonshik releases the breath he hadn’t realized he held tight in his lungs, gave the thing a scowl then quickly placed it on the counter. He would leave the sorting out to his father indeed because he hadn’t a first clue on where to put that thing other than the trash bin or the burning pits of hell.  
Either would do in his honest opinion.  
By the time the large grandfather clock at the far corner chimes at the strike of seven, Wonshik is down to his last box and happily so, begins to eagerly cut it open and dive his fingers inside to see what horrors await to be plucked from the darkness and bubble wrap.  
To say he’s surprised at the lack of grotesque objects he pulls out one after the other is an understatement. The marble crafted bowls and vases that looked made from other semi precious stones as he pulls out each engraved with intricate designs that even Wonshik couldn’t help but actually think were …. interesting in their own way was far from the type of things his father usually went scouting for.  
This box however had Wonshik checking the description and mailing address carefully because the more he took out the less convinced he was that his father had willingly saw these and purchased them for the shop.  
Maybe he’s finally acquired a little taste.  
Wonshik outright laughs at that thought while his fingers search one last time for anything that might be left inside the box.  
There was.  
If Wonshik had been confused about the other things that came out of this particular box to be ‘too normal’ to be anything his father would choose for the shop then this last piece was definitely the icing on the cake because it was by far the most beautifully crafted antique Wonshik had ever laid his eyes on.  
He twisted the small object around his fingers, feeling the deep dents and lines that curled and twisted in all manner of directions around the surface. Staring intently at the rich hues of royal blue, gold and red the creator had chosen to paint it and when his curiosity tugged him even further he opened it.  
The smell of old wood mixed with the lingering of mint and a hint of something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on was the first thing to catch him by surprise the moment he pulled the small handle up to peek inside.  
The melody that greeted him soon after was the next thing to startle him. He hadn’t thought it to be a music box of all things. There had been no sight of a winding key, and the sight of golden gears turning, like the inside of a watch puzzled him. So unlike any music box he's ever seen or owned when younger. This one in particular held none of the characteristics. Held to none of the ordinaries or proper basics yet there it was. That soft, constant rhythm fluttering out, proving him wrong. Growing louder the longer he kept the box open and the louder it became the harder it got for Wonshik to pull his attention away from it.  
It was mesmerizing and it made him think of what a harp would sound like being played by an angel. So calm, floating effortlessly around his ears like a lullaby that made him feel light on his feet and heavy in the eyes. Rich and smooth on his skin like silk travelling along the back of his neck down his arms. Provoking the prickling sensation of goose bumps to rise along the surface of his pale flesh.  
“So beautiful…”  
Wonshik nods because he simply can’t find it in himself to open his mouth to speak but by the time he tries a sudden realization hits him hard and he spins on his heels startled only to be faced with the shelves of artifacts and old antiques behind him.  
Not whom ever owned that voice, just as soothing and calm as the melody in the little box he shut tight with a trembling hand a second after.


	2. Silence then the Melody returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to extend this to 4 chapters. Anyways I do hope this chapter is of interest.  
> ^^

 

If his father thinks that bizarre look he sends him will throw him off he’s got another thing coming. To be honest he doesn’t even know himself why he’s getting this under the microscope ‘let’s probe and poke because something has gone terribly wrong’ look because he doesn’t think what he’s asked really needs to be blown out of proportion like this.

“But you said and I quote “I don’t know what you and other people see in these rotting garbage from the underworld, If it w-“

Wonshik holds up a finger quickly, interrupting whatever else his father would have said.

“Okay, One I have no recollection of ever saying something like that.. to your face at least and two this out of everything else in here is by far the most normal thing ever so I’m just really doing you and the shop justice” Wonshik defends lifting the box and spinning a few times in his hand.

His father takes a few seconds to examine the small object and few seconds more to stare suspiciously at his son who seems to have oddly taken a liken to it. Taken an interest in something he had bought for the store.

Something he doesn’t quite remember purchasing in the first place but lets it slide because, well he buys so many things sometimes. It’s impossible to keep a mental track of everything.

“I mean look at it. It’s a mockery to all the gruel-gorgeous things in here. It’s so plain. So.. boring looking..” Wonshik deadpans.

His father fails to find this amusing.

“Did you just insul-“

“It was a compliment…..I assure you” Wonshik smiles.

He gets the side eye, folded arms combination next and Wonshik tries hard not to chuckle because for the life of him he doesn’t know why his father still thinks that move intimidates him.“Still….. puzzles me so much as to why you would want it then… I mean if it’s so boring, so plain and such”

“It suits me….. It’s like an inanimate version of myself”

He father frowns and folds his arms. “It that suppose to be your selling phrase or something?”

“Depends… is it working?”

His father shoves him back under that microscope again. One last time before running a hand over his face then sighs. “But it comes with the set, it would be doing a customer wrong who came in here liked the rest yet didn’t get all of it”.

Wonshik pats his father on his shoulder shaking his head from side to side “What they won’t know won’t hurt them”

“I’ll know”

Wonshik frowns immensely.

“Come on please, are you going make me beg? Does it really have to come to me groveling? Why are you so cruel to me?”

His father scoffs at this and before his son can try and guilt trip him any further he folds.

“Fine, fine you can have it BUT you’re not allowed to take it home”

And then it was Wonshik’s turn to attempt the side eye, folded arms combination.  “That kind of defeats ownership rights and all”.

“You put it in there” Wonshik’s eyes follow where his father points, behind the cashing and wrapping counter, professionally nailed to the wall a small wooden edged, Victorian styled cupboard with crystal clear glass panels.  Already housing five other objects his father had liked so much he decided to keep for himself.

A cupboard Wonshik had rarely paid attention to and had simply assumed those specially chosen vases, sculptures and other crafts were either for boasting rights or for any customer that might have come in seen one of them, liked it so much only to be told they couldn’t have it or willing to give an arm or a leg for it.

Wonshik sighed, turned to his father and sighed again. The look the older man seemed to have been sending him through the duration he had been staring at those other objects made it clear they were to expect another member of the club.

“Do I get visitation rights?”

“You get rearranging the back room if you don’t quit with that smart mouth of yours”.

Wonshik nods, sends the old man a puppy played up smile and saunters towards the cashing counter just as the front door slowly opens and the bell dings.

“Mrs. Lee, such a pleasure” He hears his father say from behind and literally feels a cold chill seep its way up his spine. Wonshik looks back slowly watching as the crinkled skin stretches away to reveal a scatter toothed grin. Heavy eyes that have seen better days stare his way.

He sends a broken smile before his father can nudge him in the side for not being polite to their most frequent customer.

“Pleasure indeed…” she says, strutting towards them in her usual almighty, condescending manner.

 Wonshik tries his best to force his face into a way that made him seem pleased but it was hard. The woman was the spawn of something not meant for this world and if he hadn’t complained to his father how much he couldn’t stand her then he would be sure to do it when she left.

“I see there are new arrivals, perfect I’ve been  so very eager for another one of your pieces; you know we’ve added on again to the house, I had insisted, darn place was becoming too stuffy for my liking…….”

Wonshik huffed, tossing his head back and scurried over towards the cashier counter, gently placing the music box on top the surface. He sighed looked ahead, watching as his father led the old woman around the shop, pointing at various choices, explaining where they had come from and other boring aspects Wonshik was thrilled he didn’t have to do.

He pulled up the stool, taking a seat behind the counter to gather up the necessary wrapping paper and boxes that he was sure would be needed when there was another ding of the bell.

“Gran I told you to wait for me”, came a voice from the entrance. If Wonshik could eat himself into nonexistence at this moment he would have already started with his fingers.

 Sadly that was impossible so as the brooding, equally high nosed snob stepped into their fine establishment he chose instead to nibble absentmindedly on his bottom lip, while slowly slipping off the stool to make a run for the back room.

He only had one foot firmly planted on the ground.

“Wonshin”

He sighs heavily, glaring at the young man that saunters his way towards the counter with grace of a swan and the attitude as prominent as a horse’s ass. It was pointless now, not unless he wanted to be rude and simply ignore him there was no way he could get out of this spider’s web without upsetting his father.

“It’s Wonshik….. for the millionth time” Wonshik corrects calmly. The other merely smiles, brilliantly wide, takes a glance back at his grandmother and Wonshik’s father buried deep in conversation and far beyond earshot. Then leans himself foreword on the counter.

“It’s whatever I want to call you Wonnie”, he grins then proceeds to run a finger across the counter surface, rubbing his index finger with the thumb before turning a smug look Wonshik’s way.

“I see you dealt with that dust problem, finally grasped the appreciation of a clean work place” Jaehwan scoffs, Wonshik kind of wants to shove his fingers down his throat.

“These antiques gather dust rather easily but yes, I’ve gotten a handle on the dust issue” Wonshik replies curtly and watches as the brat already busies himself with things spread across the counter top.

“From what see, barely” Jaehwan sighs dramatically.

Wonshik’s chest puffs but deflates much faster. He could have, would have said something more vile to put the other in his place but he knew what would come. He couldn’t be bothered.

“Okay Jaehwan….” Wonshik replies in the most nonchalant tone he can muster. He almost smiles at the sudden annoyed look that surfaces on the other’s face when he sees clearly his taunting will get him nowhere this time.

Wonshik wants to use this rare opportunity to slip away from him. He would rather follow around the old hag, smiling until his cheeks ached than stay another minute around her brat of a grandson.

He would have. If not for what Jaehwan had switched his attention from him to.

“Oh my, what do we have here” He hears him whisper and takes a quick glance to see what has stolen Jaehwan attention so swiftly then does a double take before his stomach clenches. He hadn’t meant to make it so obvious.

And he regrets it the moment his body lurches forward and makes a grab for the small object before Jaehwan can get his grubby little hands on it.

Horrible mistake, Wonshik knows this the moment Jaehwan expression of shock slowly ebbs away leaving only utter amusement behind.

“What is that?”

“It’s not for sale” Wonshik quickly answers.

“That’s not what I asked”

“Yeah… well the question doesn’t really matter because it’s not for –“

Jaehwan moves at a speed Wonshik hadn’t known he was capable of and by the time he registers just how close he had gotten to him before situating himself on the far end of the counter. Wonshik just barely realizes the sudden feeling of emptiness in his hand.

“Let me be the judge of that” Jaehwan says in his usual arrogant tone and Wonshik barely makes it to him before he’s being held back an arm’s length by Jaehwan. Who takes his time in examining the dips and curves of the design bathed across the surface. The colours that swirls and dance in every direction.

His eyes widen a bit and it’s a look Wonshik doesn’t like one bit.

“What is this?” Jaehwan asks, playing his fingers across the surface. It almost catches Wonshik by surprise the absolute loss of Jaehwan’s usual ‘I’m better than you’ tone that is now distinctly replaced with a wondrous whisper of an almost childlike curiosity.

Wonshik doesn’t let that faze him for too long before he’s surging forward again to get a hold of the box. Jaehwan’s quick however and shoves Wonshik to the side rather unceremoniously but doesn’t laugh. He simply keeps his gaze fixated on Wonshik’s possession.

“It’s so pretty” Jaehwan cooes.

Wonshik grows increasingly annoyed by this but swallows down the sudden rush of emotion. It was his yes but why he was suddenly getting this worked up for something he knew Jaehwan couldn’t have in the end was a mystery to him.

So instead of rushing foreword again for the probability for another failed attempt. Wonshik merely stands there, arms folded tight against his chest as Jaehwan slowly pries the top up and peers inside.

He mumbles something but Wonshik doesn’t hear. He doesn’t hear anything anymore other than bewitching melody that trickles like rain drops and hums throughout his body like a heated wave of nothing and everything.

It leaves him almost dizzy on his feet and his eyes droop to the point he almost feels the urge to let them close. His head is spinning from how the music seems to put him in a trance before the harsh snap of Jaehwan shutting the box roughly pulls him back.

For a second or two more he can still feel the lingering, faint feeling thrum through his body before he gets grip on himself.  He couldn't help but notice how the melody had changed though, just slightly but still noticeable.

“Are you going to tell me what this contraption is or do I have to pry it apart and figure it out myself”.

Wonshik eyes snaps up and Jaehwan wears a look that is far too irritated from his lack of patience to wait much longer for an explanation.

‘Idiot’ he thinks.

“It’s a music box or was the sudden sound so shocking it didn't register” came Wonshik’s snappy remark. Jaehwan’s expression births a puzzled look before he took in all that was said.

His eyes narrow and he grips the box a little tighter.

“Well excuse me when one of your cheap little trinkets doesn’t do what it’s supposed to” Jaehwan hisses and Wonshik gaze grows hard.

“It isn’t my fault you’re either too dumb to know what music sounds like or temporarily went deaf” Wonshik snaps, louder than he had expected and takes two long strides foreword, grabbing for the box then pushes.

 

He doesn’t know what’s louder.

The speed and intensity of Jaehwan’s impact against one of the antiques that sends hurling to the floor, the yell Jaehwan lets out as he tumbles backwards into said object or the deafen sound as he watches helplessly as his little music box follows suit and hits the ground with a sickening crack.

His father makes sure the echo of his voice vibrating through the entire shop is the last and most terrifying thing Wonshik hears that day though.

 

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~                                                                                          

 

 It’s half pass midnight when a dust covered; tired Wonshik pulls himself out of the back room bickering about everything that brought his life to this point. Coughing and sneezing. Brushing his fingers through his cobweb infested hair. He wipes at the corner of his face the tiny beads of sweat only to leave a dirt path along his forehead down his right cheek.

‘Six hours’ Wonshik grieves as he checks a glance at the grandfather clock that has long since chimed in the new day. Six painful hours of cleaning, rearranging and organizing and he still had yet to make a dent back there.

He should really have understood the full weight of his father’s words whenever he threatened him about the backroom.

Cleaning off the excess dirt on the front of his shirt from his fingers, he makes his way to the front of the shop and towards his phone, he had only realized two hours into shoving boxes around that he had forgotten to bring with him but couldn’t be bothered to retrieve.

The screen lights up and he whimpers at the amount of missed calls and texts that blinked back at him.

17 missed calls : Dad

6 new messages

6:30 pm **: Don’t think for a minute that this is a one day punishment**

7:25  pm **: Two more hours then get your ass home, use the side door I locked the entrance**

7:27  pm **: On second thought maybe I should have just locked you in until morning**

9:45 pm **: I’m joking (don’t think I’m still not mad), hurry and get home, mom made your favourite**

9:48 pm **: I ate it all though**

11:56 pm **: Are you trying to get more punishment, answer your phone boy GET HOME NOW!**

 

“Shit” He panics, exiting the last message and hits the speed dial button. He shimmies around a bit, waiting for his father’s voice to come bellowing out the other end like wild smoke and decides better to place the phone a bit away from his ear.

It goes unanswered, Wonshik tries again.

No signal.

He curses, moving about the shop trying to get a bar before he hears it. Faint but demanding for attention.

It floats around the shop like a breeze on an autumn morning, subtle and quiet but not so easily missed. Wonshik is caught by surprise at first before his feet are carrying him away and he finds himself staring down his little music box that’s open in front of him.

Gears turning, golden and sparkling in the scarce light and for the second time that day Wonshik notices the change of the melody. Its crisp alluring tone seems to have slowed, altered and as the vibrations and pitches flood him, he feels that same lightheaded wave begin to sneak up on him again.

He feels flushed and something pricks at his skin uncomfortably. It feels as if he’s being cloaked in a veil that sets the uncomfortable prick on his skin flaring. Irritating his nerves. His spine bends a little and his chest rises and falls at a steadily increasing pace.

His vision begins to blur, shapes twisting and swirling before his eyes that he has to shut them tight. He doesn’t even realize the intense grip he has on the edge of the counter before he’s gasping in a startled breath at the piercing sound the grandfather clock makes as it chimes one in the morning.

In that moment his phone comes to life, the caller ID pulling what of his mind had been left in a daze back to reality.

He picks up.

“Honey, where are you? Are you okay? Why were'nt you answering you phone”

He’s surprised by the calm, soothing voice of his mother even though that was definitely his father’s phone and quickly explains how time had slipped him, with cleaning and such as he grabs for the keys to the side door, sparing a glance at the music box, closed.

With that unmistakable crack, running down the middle.

He grimaces at it the longer he stares at the horrible mark on the perfect little box.

‘Stupid fcking Jaehwan’ he thinks.

“Honey? Wonshikkie darling… are you still there?”

He forgets to answer.

“WONSHIK GET YOUR DROOPY EYED BUTT HOME NOW BEFORE I COME THERE AND DRAG YOU BACK BY THE TEETH”

Wonshik’s out the door before his father makes do on that threat.

 

The door slams shut, silence then the melody returns.


End file.
